


Colour and Meaning

by Pom_Rania



Series: Little By Little [26]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Colour Symbolism, Gen, Introspection, author does not know much about Mandalorian culture, mentions of a blood oath, visually-impaired Ezra Bridger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pom_Rania/pseuds/Pom_Rania
Summary: Every colour has a meaning to Sabine. She considers them, in the context of planning out an oath.





	Colour and Meaning

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to izzyovercoffee (on tumblr) for their posts on Mando colour symbolism.

Sabine watched the setting sun, and contemplated the future. It wasn’t something she did often. Oh, she planned, that was unavoidable, but if she could get away with it, she tried to not think about what life would have in store for them all. She couldn’t get away with not thinking about it.

Any oath required careful consideration of what it meant and why it was being sworn. And given that she was creating her own rituals, she couldn’t rely on previously-established forms and symbols. Everything had to come from her alone.

Colour gave her direction, and a place to start.

Red was for family, and blood, and the sun setting in front of her. 

Family. Not the one that had rejected her, but the one that had taken her in. The family she would die for, the family she would kill for, the family she would live for. The family that had already suffered so much and was suffering even more. They were what was most important, and everything was for them.

Blood. Her blood, in the vial, ready for whenever she was ready to make her oath. The blood of her enemies, as they sprawled before her in defeat. The blood shed by her family and allies as they fought against a foe that outnumbered them and could seem overwhelming. Determination and sacrifice and knowing when to swallow your pride and back down for a more important fight later.

Sunset. Everything came to an end, eventually. It couldn’t be stopped any more than you could stop the planet’s rotation. Inevitability. But it was also the rising sun. New beginnings, and change. Everything would have to change. It was as natural as the cycle of day and night and day and night. All of her ancestors, everyone’s ancestors, had gone through that, struggled with it, and coped to varying degrees. Loss was unavoidable, but giving up was a decision.

Red was the most common colour painted on the dokma for those silly races, if only because it was almost always available. Red was the colour of bloodshot eyes when someone had been crying. Red was the colour of the blade that had stolen Kanan’s sight and permanently cut him off from her colours.

Orange was for living life to the fullest, and fire, and the painted clouds that streaked across the sky.

Life. Living fearlessly and joyfully, embracing each new day as it came. Looking forward without worry or regret. What Ezra didn’t have at the moment. The future held the hope of adjusting and making progress, but the certainty of further vision loss. Fear. They all needed more orange. Joy came if you fought for it; fought your oppressors, your environment, the parts of your own mind that were holding you down.

Fire. Destruction. Both the trigger and the result of an explosion. The ruins of a home, or the ruins of an enemy base. The need to rebuild but also the way to rebuild. If properly directed and controlled, it could remove everything that was in the way and that shouldn’t be there.

Clouds. Beauty. A beauty that no one seemed to appreciate as much as she did. A beauty that could only be seen. She still had no idea how she could express it otherwise in her art. Even if everyone learned how to read the tactile alphabet, that would only be a description, a pale and faint representation of what she wanted to get across with the shapes and colours.

Orange was the colour of Chopper’s preferred paint job. Orange was the colour of Ezra’s clothing, for as long as she had known him, with the only exception being when he was in disguise. Orange was the colour of the most recent painting on her door, unfinished because she had a hard time concentrating on it.

Yellow was vengeance, and the lights turning on in the distance to keep the base well-lit.

Vengeance. Satisfying, but in some cases not worth the time spent pursuing it. Three lives lost: the person originally harmed, your enemy’s, and your own. The drive to hurt the cause, more than help what was left. Pointless, for the problem at hand. Nobody’s fault. Nobody whose death or suffering would bring closure and vindication. Anger and rage that she had to somehow let go of, because there was no appropriate target.

Light. Ezra needed it more than anyone else did, at least at the moment. Needing assistance when everything still seemed normal. Kanan couldn’t see light, and didn’t know when he had left a light on. He checked, now. He didn’t know if it was dark, or what anybody else could see. He didn’t need light at all.

Yellow was the colour of Zeb’s eyes, never crying no matter how he felt. Yellow was the colour of his ridiculous waffles; he liked them so that was good, but she didn’t understand what was so special about them. Yellow was the colour of uniforms and helmets on the base.

Green was Hera, and duty, and how Hera balanced duty and everything else that was important to her.

The first impression Sabine ever had of Hera was as a green blur, asking where she was injured; then a slightly more distinct green blur, sitting by her bed as she began to heal; then a green alien. Hera didn’t seem alien any more. Hera was family, a pilot, the captain of the Ghost, member of the Rebellion, and maybe ten or fifteen items down the list would be “twi'lek and not human”.

Duty. Hera refusing to put more at risk to rescue Kanan. Balance. Hera going along with them once they had a plan that could work. Duty was Hera going on missions after Malachor, even though she wanted to stay and be with everyone, because there was nothing more she could do to help them at the moment. Duty was not letting the pain slip over into cruelty or recklessness. Duty was being there for others, even when it hurt so bad it felt overwhelming. Sabine could only hope that Hera still remembered to keep the balance.

Green was the colour of plants she had never really paid attention to. Green was the colour of Kanan’s eyes, back when they were still clear. Green was the colour of laser fire from TIE fighters.

Blue was reliability, and lightsabers, and the sky darkening above her.

Reliability. Being there. Something you could trust to stay constant. What could be trusted, when your senses might fail at any moment? Kanan spoke of the Force. Maybe there was comfort in that. Something that would always exist, no matter what happened to you. Did they believe that it guided you? She could use some guidance. It felt wrong to turn to anyone there for help, when they were dealing with their own problems.

Lightsabers. The mark of a Jedi. Even if they came in other colours, Kanan’s was blue and Ezra’s first one had been blue. Did Kanan know that Ezra’s blade was green now? The Force didn’t tell him colours. They were all too human. Even Ahsoka, who wasn’t human. Hadn’t been. Figures of myth that suffered like anybody else. A weapon, no matter how powerful, was only as good as its wielder.

Sky. The overhead expanse that seemed limitless, and promising infinite possibilities. An illusion, albeit a nice-looking one. Impossible to reach unaided. Easily achieved, and more, in a ship. Distance was relative, depending on what you had available. Difficulty, as well. If a problem seemed insurmountable, you were approaching it the wrong way. Limits were there to be broken. Maybe not in the way you expected, but still. Freedom came first from within, then it could be expressed on the outside world.

Blue was the colour of Ezra’s eyes, and they would stay that colour even when he had lost all sight from them. Blue was the colour of hyperspace, travelling and escaping. Blue was the colour of Rex’s jaig eyes, and maybe he could help and understand, once he was back.

Black was for justice, and nightfall.

Justice. Justice had nothing to do with it. Kanan’s only crime was dropping his guard for the wrong second. Ezra’s only crime was being born to parents with a background of genetic disorders. The others, too. Their only crime was caring, so that it hurt when someone else hurt. If there was no justice in the past, it would have to be in the future. Going blind, no matter the cause, was nothing worthy of punishment. Treating it otherwise would be itself worthy of punishment. Justice was doing what was right, and fixing what was wrong. If only she knew how to do that.

Night. Dark. Making it so that you couldn’t see. She didn’t want to think about it. With your eyes closed, asleep, the dark was no problem. Avoiding the issue, to make it not hurt. Or maybe not needing to see, when you felt safe enough to rest, and everything you interacted with could be easily felt. Those same principles could be expanded, to make it easier. It would never be easy. But so that there was no fear of not knowing, or running into something. Only the fear of loss and change and everything you’d never get to experience ever again.

Grey was mourning and shadows. Everything the same colour. No colour. They shouldn’t mourn. Ezra was still there. He wasn’t dying. It was a loss, but not the end. They needed to support him. Shadows would come soon enough, no matter what they did. Grief was unavoidable, but once you got through it you could get back to the colours. She didn’t want to give it a place of honour.

Nothing white was ever a good sign. White was the snow on a planet she would never return to. Stormtrooper armour. Walls that had to be scrubbed perfectly clean, as a punishment for stepping out of line. Bleached bones. Dead branches. A bandage covering ruined eyes. The medical droid who, although helpful, symbolized so much that had hurt her family. White was the flash of teeth exposed in a fake smile, either as a prelude to betrayal or pretending that everything was fine when it was obvious that the person was in pain, and she didn’t know which felt worse.

She was out of colours, and out of daylight. Not out of thoughts. There was so much she had brought up, that she had to go over. But first, she needed to go back to the Ghost. She wasn’t planning on sleeping out there, and she had other responsibilities still.

The short walk was enough to give her the outlines of what she would want or need (they were really the same thing, here) for her oath.

Absolutely nothing grey. Even if something was originally grey, she would paint it beforehand. Something white, to destroy. Ideally with fire. Removing everything that stood in the way, to make way for a life lived without fear or worry. The red of her blood, and maybe paint if that wasn’t enough, in the image of a circle. Sunset and sunrise, and the connection of family. Orange anywhere she could conceivably fit it. Her vows in black. Those were the most important elements.

A sudden thought intruded on her mind. She was only swearing not to make fun of Ezra in any art he couldn’t see. Under those terms – and she wasn’t even stretching them – it would be entirely acceptable to have an audio recording making fun of him, or something written and textured that could be understood without needing sight. What if she added an example of that to the ritual?

Her first instinct was to reject the very idea... then she considered it some more. He wanted people to treat him normally. Well, “normal” for her included not letting him live it down, if he did something ridiculous. He wasn’t going to suddenly become all dignified and graceful when he lost his sight, so she wasn’t going to suddenly stop getting on his case when he deserved it.

He might feel like she was mocking him – well, she would be, but specifically in a cruel way which was _not_ her intention – so she’d have to be careful with it. But if she managed to get it just right, it could add some much-needed levity to the whole thing, and help set up the balance she meant to still have with him in the future.

She now had a few well-defined problems she could attack. Which put her in a better position than she’d been in before, at least. Fire safety regulations on the base should be easy enough to find out. She needed to word everything perfectly, or as close to perfect as she could get, for the oath. Figuring out how to prevent everything from making Ezra feel worse would be complicated, to say the least, so she would have to start thinking about it as soon as possible. Once those were dealt with, she was confident in her ability to figure out the rest of it.

Sabine had contemplated the future, but the present was still calling her. And soon it would be literally, Hera asking what was taking her so long. The world didn’t stop for you, no matter what you thought about or felt.

Besides, she still had an unfinished painting on her door. She felt that now, maybe she would be able to concentrate on it. It just needed some more red, and blue, and green, and black.


End file.
